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Fucking My Pregnant Mother, by Jezebel Rose

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I was feeling anxious as I passed familiar buildings and streets, thinking about meeting up with my mother again.

I was 20 years old. I’d met her for the first time in this way a few nights earlier. Boredom had made me restless, and the thought of another evening alone was too much to bear. I’d ventured to a local nightclub to be around people, not necessarily to interact with them, but to feel part of something, to observe others also escaping their loneliness. The night had been uneventful, watching the movement of bodies on the dancefloor through artificial smoke and the haze of burning cigarettes. The warm, cheap beer had made the night more tolerable.

I was sat alone watching them as they came from the café and sat a few meters away, two friends that were enjoying a midweek night out. The left was my mother. She was a bottle-blonde, bohemian in her fashion choices with a short, black, flowery dress and military boots, fitter to her small frame. Her breasts were small and firm under the material that covered them, and she showed enough skin to make me want to see more. I could tell her belly had swollen since I had seen her last. Was it mine? Likely.

I’d approached them and asked for a light (having hidden my lighter in the inside pocket of my long coat). My mother, Carrie, and something, I never bothered learning her friend’s name.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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